executed in his home after release, probably because his employer had discovered that he’d visited the police and was scared he would tell what he knew.’
‘Mm.’
‘And you support your claim that he had been to Police HQ with the fact that he had a visitor’s pass with Oslo Politidistrikt written on?’
‘I compared it with the pass I got when I visited Hagen. The print on the bar of the ‘H’s is faint on both. Definitely the same printer.’
‘I won’t ask you how you got hold of Schultz’s visitor’s pass, but how can you be so certain that this was not a normal visit? Perhaps he wanted to explain the potato flour, make sure we believed him.’
‘Because his name has been deleted from the visitors’ book. It was important that this visit was kept secret.’
Mikael Bellman sighed. ‘It’s what I’ve always thought, Harry. We should have worked with each other, not against each other. You would have liked Kripos.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘Before I say anything else, I have a favour to ask you. Please keep quiet about what I’m going to tell you.’
‘OK.’
‘This case has already put me in an embarrassing situation. It was me Schultz visited. And, you’re quite right, he did want to tell me what he knew. Among other things he told me what I had long suspected: that we have a burner among us. Someone, I believe, who works at HQ, close to Orgkrim cases. I told him to wait at home while I spoke to my superior. I had to tread warily so as not to alarm the burner. But caution often means things move slowly. I spoke to the retiring Chief of Police, but he left it to me to find a way to tackle this.’
‘Why?’
‘As I said, he is retiring. He has no wish to have a case involving a corrupt police officer as a parting gift.’
‘So he wanted to keep it under wraps until he was gone?’
Bellman stared into his coffee cup. ‘It’s very likely that I will be the new Chief of Police, Harry.’
‘You?’
‘And I might as well kick off with a shit case, he probably thought. The problem is I was too slow on the trigger. I racked my brains. We could have got Schultz to reveal the burner’s identity straight away. But then all the others would have gone into hiding. I thought, what if we put a wire on Schultz, make him lead us to the others we were after first? Who knows, perhaps all the way to the present Mr Big in Oslo.’
‘Dubai.’
Bellman nodded. ‘The problem was: who could I trust at HQ and who couldn’t I? I had just hand-picked a small group of officers, checked them out thoroughly, then news came in of an anonymous tip-off…’
‘Tord Schultz had been found dead,’ Harry said.
Bellman eyed him sharply.
‘And now,’ Harry said, ‘your problem is that if it gets out you’ve slipped up that could put a spoke in your appointment as Chief of Police.’
‘Well, there is that,’ Bellman said. ‘But that’s not what worries me most. The problem is that nothing of what Schultz told me can be used. We’re no further than before. This alleged policeman who visited Schultz in his cell and may have exchanged the dope…’
‘Yes?’
‘He identified himself as a policeman. The inspector at Gardermoen appears to remember his name was Thomas something or other. We have five Thomases at Police HQ. None of them at Orgkrim, by the way. I sent over the photos of our Thomases, but he didn’t recognise any of them. So, for all we know, the burner may not even be in the police.’
‘Mm. So a person with false police ID. Or, more likely, someone like me, an ex-policeman.’
‘Why?’
Harry shrugged. ‘It takes a policeman to trick a policeman.’
The front door clicked.
‘Darling!’ Bellman called. ‘We’re in here.’
The lounge door opened, and the sweet, suntanned face of a woman in her thirties appeared. Her blonde hair was tied up in a ponytail, and Harry was reminded of Tiger Woods’s ex-wife.
‘I’ve dropped the kids off at Mum’s. Are you coming, honeybunch?’
Bellman coughed. ‘We have a visitor.’
She tilted her head. ‘I can see that, honey.’
Bellman looked at Harry with a resigned what-can-you-do? expression.
‘Hi,’ she said and sent Harry a teasing look. ‘Dad and I have got another load on the trailer. Feel like…?’
‘Bad back and a sudden longing for home,’ Harry mumbled, draining his coffee cup and jumping to his feet.
‘One more thing,’ Harry said as he and Bellman stood outside in the porch. ‘The visit I told you about, to the Radium Hospital?’
‘Yes?’
‘There’s a man there, a scientist. Martin Pran. Just a gut instinct, but I wonder if you could check him out for me.’
‘For you?’
‘Sorry, old habit. For the police. For the country. For humanity.’
‘Gut instinct?’
‘By and large that’s all I have to offer as far as this case is concerned. If you could let me know what you find…’
‘I’ll consider it.’
‘Thank you, Mikael.’ Harry could feel how strange the man’s Christian name felt on his tongue. Wondered if he’d ever said it before. Mikael opened the door to the rainy weather, and cold air gusted in.
‘Sorry to hear about the boy,’ Bellman said.
‘Which one?’
‘Both.’
‘Mm.’
‘Know what? I met Gusto Hanssen once. He came here.’
‘Here?’
‘Yes. A stunningly attractive boy. The kind…’ Bellman searched for the words. Gave up. ‘Were you in love with Elvis when you were a boy? Man crush, as the Americans say.’
‘Well,’ Harry said, taking out a pack of cigarettes. ‘No.’
He could have sworn he saw a flicker of red in Mikael Bellman’s white pigment stains.
‘The boy had that kind of face. And charisma.’
‘What did he want here?’
‘To talk to a policeman. I had a gang of colleagues helping out. When you only have a police salary you have to do most things yourself, you know.’
‘Who did he talk to?’
‘Who?’ Bellman looked at Harry, although his eyes were fixed elsewhere, on something he had seen. ‘I don’t remember. These dopeheads are always ready to grass on somebody if it’ll give them a thousand kroner for a shot. Goodnight, Harry.’
Harry was walking through Kvadraturen. A camper van stopped further up the street by a black prostitute. The door opened and three boys — they couldn’t have been older than twenty — jumped out. One filmed while a second turned to the woman. She shook her head. Probably didn’t want to do a gang-bang film which would go on YouPorn. They had Internet where she came from as well. Family, relatives. Perhaps they thought the money she sent home was from her waitressing job. Or perhaps they didn’t, and preferred not to ask. As Harry went closer one of the boys spat on the tarmac in front of her and said in a shrill, drunken voice: ‘Cheap nigger ass.’
Harry met the black woman’s tired gaze. They nodded as if they both saw something they recognised. The
